


Everyday's a Holiday When I'm with You

by phichithamsters



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Holidays, In a world..., M/M, Muslim Otabek Altin, Post-Canon, Where homophobia doesn't exist, rated T except for one scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:49:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21975367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phichithamsters/pseuds/phichithamsters
Summary: Yuri and Otabek fall in love over the holidays.
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky
Comments: 10
Kudos: 71
Collections: Yuri!!! on Ice Secret Skater 2019





	Everyday's a Holiday When I'm with You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zjofierose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zjofierose/gifts).



> This fic is my secret skater present for Zjo! She asked for a cute otayuri holiday story, so— naturally— I wrote five. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

_Christmas Eve, St. Petersburg, 2016_

“He’s coming? Here?”

“Honestly, Yuri, I thought you two talked every day,” Victor shot back, flipping something in a pan. 

Yuri glowered “We do talk, god,” he muttered under his breath, but Victor didn’t seem to catch it. 

Victor was distracted, looking utterly domestic in his apron and preparing food for the Christmas celebration. Yuri figured that Victor would’ve catered the event, but there was something about the effect that the other Yuuri had on him, and Yuri could only describe it as sickening. Who would’ve thought _anyone_ could’ve brought the Great Victor Nikiforov to such levels as wearing an apron and actually using his kitchen in his penthouse, but somehow Yuuri had convinced him. Yuuri, at present, was flitting nervously around Victor, flour on his forehead, cheerfully guiding him through each step of the recipe with the patience of a saint. It made Yuri want to vomit.

“Besides, you knew we were inviting _everyone_ who participated in the Grand Prix Finals!” Victor said. “Why would we forget him?”

Victor had a point, but somehow, Yuri had not put two and two together and had just, at that moment, reached the understanding that Otabek Altin, _The_ Hero of Kazakhstan, was coming to St. Petersburg for Victor’s 29th Birthday and Christmas Celebration Extravaganza. Victor usually wanted to keep things low-key for his birthday (it wasn’t Russian custom to make a big deal about them), but Yuuri had talked him into doing something _._ What started as a small celebration had snowballed, in the typical Victor fashion, into a grand production that included a Christmas party, live jazz, and an ice sculpture that was taking up the majority of Victor’s freezer. At the moment, the band was setting up in the corner of the living room.

It was true that Yuri and Otabek had talked every day— either by text, phone call, FaceTime, or the occasional Snapchat if Otabek was feeling generous— but somehow it had slipped through the cracks that Otabek was traveling to Russia to celebrate Victor’s birthday. Yuri knew that Otabek was Muslim and therefore didn’t celebrate Christmas, so the fact that he was coming all this way just to mingle with the other skaters seemed… very unlike him. But Yuri didn’t have time to ponder Otabek’s motivations; he had to _get ready._

While the party didn’t start for another few hours, the skaters were all scheduled to arrive early and Yuri suddenly realized that he was wearing _sweatpants_. Not that he cared what the _other_ skaters thought of him— anything Yuri needed to prove to them hung around his neck in the form of a sparkling gold medal— but Otabek… he was different. Yuri wanted to show him that he was cool, badass, totally grown-up, and his fuzzy tiger slippers were definitely not helping his case.

Yuri jumped out of his chair (to the surprise of Victor, Yuuri, and Makkachin), and ran the block to Lilya’s house so that he could change. After an hour of rummaging through his closet, as well as a frantic FaceTime with Mila about fashion choices that left him more frustrated than anything, Yuri decided to wear his signature black jeans and jean jacket combo, complete with a leopard print hoodie underneath. 

Right as he opened the front door leave, he got a text from Otabek. 

_Just landed in St. Petersburg_ , Otabek wrote, tacking on a little airplane emoji at the end which was oddly expressive for him.

“Shit,” Yuri muttered to himself before then sprinted back to Victor’s apartment. When he arrived, he saw that Chris was already sitting at the counter, watching Victor stir flour frantically in a red bowl. Yuri rolled his eyes; the stand mixer was _right there_.

“Yuri, could you help me—”

“No time, old man!” Yuri shot back, kicking off his shoes and running to the bathroom. As he left, he heard Chris’s snide “Oh, _someone’s_ in a hurry,” but Yuri couldn’t be bothered to think of a witty reply— he had to fix his hair situation quickly, and his only hope was Victor’s large bathroom cabinet that contained his wide array of hair care products. While Yuri may have been annoyed by most things that Victor did, Yuri _did_ have a begrudging respect for the old man’s hair.

Yuri ran a brush through his blond hair, wincing at the knots that had formed while he was running up and down the streets of St. Petersburg. He was trying to walk the line between looking presentable and like he’d put in an effort, because god forbid people could see that he was actively trying to look nice. 

Putting in effort, Yuri had learned, was definitely not cool, and he needed Otabek to think he was cool.

Yuri paused, the brush hanging from his hair. Was this all for Otabek? That was most definitely not cool, wanting to impress someone that much. Yuri thought about this for a moment, but then his phone buzzed again and he had _no time_ to focus on that because his hair was still somewhat of a rat’s nest and… great, Otabek was in the uber and rapidly closing on Yuri’s location.

He quickly pulled half of his hair into a ponytail and called it a day. Yuri heard the door open, and while he logically knew that Otabek could not have been the one knocking, he still let out a sigh of relief when he heard Phichit’s excited squeals fill up the apartment.

Putting on his best sulk, Yuri sauntered out into the living room and plopped onto Victor’s couch, ignoring both Chris and Phichit’s excited greetings. Yuri just huffed and called Makkachin onto the couch because he knew Victor didn’t allow her on the furniture. True to form, she bounded over and made herself comfortable next to him. He scratched her head in self-satisfaction and pulled out his phone.

“—flight was delayed, but Otabek texted that he was on his way from the airport!” 

Yuri’s ears perked up when he heard Yuuri mention Otabek’s name. He tried to sneak a peek at the kitchen island where the other four were gathered, but he looked up to see them all staring at him.

“Exciting, isn’t it Yurachka?” Victor said, and then winked at him. 

Yuri glared daggers at him, but Victor just laughed it off and went back to animatedly explaining all of the activities for the night. Yuri pulled out his phone and went back to sulking.

A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door and Yuri’s phone buzzed at the same time. Yuri could see the other Yuuri turn to answer it, but Yuri knew _exactly_ who it was so he sprang up from the couch and frantically yelled, “I GOT IT!”, ignoring the looks of the four other skaters at the kitchen island.

The front door was off of a hallway beside the kitchen, so no one could see Yuri take a deep breath before turning the handle. Why the hell was he so nervous? 

Ignoring the feeling in his stomach, he yanked open the door. Otabek stood there, his hand poised as if to knock a second time, but he turned it into a wave.

“Hey, Yura. It’s nice to see you,” Otabek said with a small smile.

The sound of his voice broke Yuri’s heart. He didn’t know someone’s voice could do that.

— 

Once Otabek had greeted the other skaters with a nod of his head (and Yuri had subsequently death-glared Chris and Victor for giving him looks with raised eyebrows), Yuri told Otabek his plan for the night.

“Basically, I was just going to not talk to anyone and eat katsudon on all of Victor’s expensive furniture,” he said.

“That sounds great. Can I join you?” Otabek asked. Yuri blushed a little and mumbled, “You can do whatever you want, I don’t care.”

So as the guests piled in— prominent athletes from around the city, Victor and Yuuri’s couple friends, and basically anyone that Victor had said so much as “hello” to over the years— Yuri and Otabek sat on Victor’s Frank Lloyd Wright chairs and sofas and ate food messily, playing rock paper scissors to see who would have to make their way through the crowds of people into the kitchen to get more snacks. The party was in full swing by that time, so they took turns judging people’s lack of style (“But where is the animal print?” Yuri would ask in genuine confusion), and avoiding eye contact when people looked their way. Otabek even offered to share some of his drink because Victor insisted Yuri was too young for alcohol.

Otabek came back holding a bronze cup triumphantly.

“How the hell did you get one?” Yuri asked incredulously.

“Because I’m older and wiser,” Otabek said, sitting back down on the couch and taking a sip. 

“We both know that’s not true,” Yuri said, but Otabek didn’t acknowledge him; he was staring intently at his cup. Weird.

“What so funny?” Yuri asked.

“I just realized,” he said, trying to contain his giggling. “It’s a joke.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“It’s a _Moscow Mule_ ,” he said, and then burst out laughing. Yuri looked at him strangely.

Otabek tried again. “Get it, cause we’re in St. Petersburg?” 

Yuri stared at him for at least thirty seconds and then shook his head. “That’s literally the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” he said, just as Otabek burst out into another fit of laughter. Yuri blinked slowly, trying to understand what was unfolding in front of his very eyes.

Apparently, Otabek had the humor of a middle-aged dad and, weirdly enough, as Otabek cracked up at his own stupid joke, Yuri realized that he might not hate it.

Yuri shook his head. “Whatever, I’m going to need a drink if I’m gonna get through this party,” he said, and then snatched the mug from Otabek’s hands and took a large swallow.

When he was finished, he slammed it down dramatically and saw Otabek watching him, a strange expression on his face that Yuri had never seen. 

Yuri stuck out his tongue. “What?”

Otabek laughed a little, mostly to himself, before shaking his head. “It’s nothing,” he responded, taking a sip of his drink. 

Yuri didn’t know what to make of that, so he just narrowed his eyes and said, “You’re weird, you know that, Beka?”

Otabek scoffed at him and then threw one arm around Yuri’s shoulder, taking him by surprise. Yuri looked away, trying to conceal the blush that was creeping onto his cheeks. 

“I like spending the holidays with you,” Otabek said suddenly. Yuri’s face flushed and his brain scrambled for a response, but Otabek didn’t seem to notice his silent sputtering. He just looked down at his cup, which was already half empty, and stood up, releasing a very flustered Yuri from his grip. 

“I’m gonna get another drink, because you drank most of this one,” he announced. Yuri was able to get his wits about him enough to protest, when Otabek cut him off. 

“Wait here for me, okay?” he said, and Yuri swore he saw Otabek wink as he walked away. 

Yuri dropped his head into his hands with a large sigh. Despite his frustration, however, he couldn’t help the smile that was growing on his face, because _Otabek liked spending the holidays with him_. 

But then again, so _what_ if Otabek liked spending the holidays with him? Yuri groaned and tugged his hair in frustration. _Why should he care?_ Caring wasn’t cool.

“Yuri!”

Yuri looked up to see Otabek weaving his way back to the couch, two mugs in hand and a triumphant grin on his face, and suddenly Yuri realized that maybe, just maybe, being cool wasn’t everything. 

* * *

_Eid Al Fitr, Almaty, 2018_

When Yuri came to visit Otabek for the holidays, Yuri slept in the guest room (because even though he and Otabek kissed before, they still had to sleep in separate beds). 

Otabek’s family welcomed him with open arms, despite knowing about him only from the stories Otabek would tell about a boy named Yuri Plistesky with the eyes of a soldier. They’d seen him on TV, of course, watching Otabek’s skating competitions all crowded around the living room (Otabek had three younger sisters), but they were kind and gentle and only fawned over Yuri just a little bit, because they all knew what it was like to have a famous athlete in the family. 

Otabek’s family was celebrating Eid al-Fitr, the Muslim holiday that ended the fast of Ramadan. Since Otabek was training during Ramadan, he made the hard decision not to fast, but he still wanted to observe the holiday in any way that he could, so he had asked Yuri to visit him in Almaty. Otabek’s family even invited Yuri to worship with them, so right after Yuri got settled, Yuri and Otabek and the rest of his family piled into their van and made their way down to the local mosque. 

They all took off their shoes on the plush teal carpet when they entered, where Otabek gave Yuri some kind of head covering and showed him where he could wait. The mosque that Otabek attended was one of the smaller ones in the city, but the community was vibrant and thriving. Yuri watched the other families pour in, all delightedly chatting in languages Yuri had never heard. From his place outside of the prayer hall, Yuri could see Otabek sit down with father, apart from his mother and sisters. Everyone who entered the room greeted Otabek or gave him a pat on the back, and he was positively beaming. Yuri was surprised that he tolerated all of the attention, but it seemed like he was just so at ease. Maybe that’s what it meant to come home. 

Yuri watched with wide eyes as a man in the front of the room began chanting some kind of opening prayer. Everyone seemed to know what to do: when to stand up, when to bow, when to speak, when to be silent. It was like watching a choreographed dance with hundreds of people, and Yuri was absolutely captivated. 

He watched for what could have been minutes or hours, until he felt a tap on his shoulder that made him. Yuri whipped around to see a woman with dark eyebrows and a warm smile.

“You’re Yuri Plisetsky, right?” 

He nodded. 

“I’m Aisha. I’m Otabek’s cousin. He told me he was bringing a friend to Eid services today and I am so delighted to meet you!” she said, extending her hand. Yuri shook it numbly. 

“You’re probably getting a little bored watching the service,” she said with a playful laugh. “If you want, you can help set up the feast with me and my mom, Otabek’s aunt,” she said. When Yuri looked skeptical, she added, “It was Otabek’s idea.”

He was reluctant to leave his spot, since that’s where Otabek would be waiting for him, but he was also getting a little antsy. He shrugged and said, “Sure.”

Aisha beamed and led him to a large room with a kitchen just behind a set of double doors. In the kitchen were four other women, who each introduced themselves and their relationship to Otabek. Before he knew it, Yuri was wearing a hairnet and pair of gloves and helping Auntie Inzhu prepare the dolmades. 

While Yuri had cooked before, he’d never done anything quite as intricate as what these women were making. Most of the food had been pre-made for the feast, so it just needed to be warmed up and plated, but even then Yuri felt like a child who’d set foot in a kitchen for the first time. He was instructed on the proper ways to season the biryani, the perfect temperature for boiling the sevai, and the only tried and true method for getting the layers of the baklava right. By the end, he had learned a full vocabulary of foods and was even starting to enjoy himself as he and the other women told stories about their dear Otabek. 

When the buffet was all set out, Yuri stood proudly behind the tables and helped Aisha and Inzhu serve the food, trying to greet everyone with the proper Arabic “ _As-salamu alaykum_ ,” even though his tongue tripped over the syllables. Luckily, it seemed that everyone knew about Yuri’s visit, so they were all very patient with him anyways.

Eventually, Yuri spotted Otabek in the throngs of people milling around and called out his name, accidentally waving the hand that held the serving spoon so he flicked rice all over the table. Otabek politely stepped out his conversation and jogged over to Yuri. 

“Did you help make this?” he asked, his expression a mixture of pride and fondness that Yuri had seen many times but still couldn’t name. 

“I did! I had so much fun,” Yuri said, and then began to excitedly list off all of the things that he had been taught until Otabek pulled him into a tight hug, cutting off his rambling. 

“I’m so glad you came,” he whispered. Yuri just nodded against him, not sure how to respond.

Suddenly, Otabek pulled out of the hug and held Yuri by the shoulders.

“Hold on, let me make you a plate before the good stuff runs out,” he said, and then jogged away, leaving Yuri confused and just the slightest bit flustered.

He shook it off and went back to serving the biryani. 

Once everyone in the community had gotten a plate, Aisha shooed Yuri away so that he could eat. Yuri sat with Otabek and his family, one of his younger sisters making herself comfortable on Yuri’s lap. He let the other two sisters braid his hair, and he tried not to be too embarrassed when Diana, the youngest in the family, caught him and Otabek holding hands under the table and squealed loudly enough to turn everyone’s heads towards their table. Otabek’s family just laughed and Otabek gave Yuri’s hand a squeeze, even though he was blushing too.

It was a clear summer night in Almaty, so Yuri and Otabek decided to walk home from the mosque. Yuri said goodbye to the women from the kitchen, and was taken aback when Aisha pulled him into a warm hug and patted him on the head (even though he was taller than her). He just blushed and mumbled his thanks.

“Thanks for coming,” Otabek said, as they walked back. They had both been quiet, generally just enjoying each other’s presence, so Otabek’s words startled Yuri a little.

“That’s the second time you’ve said that,” Yuri said. “You don’t have to thank me for coming. I like being here.”

Otabek looked wistfully ahead of him. “I said it twice because I meant it. I, um...” Otabek trailed off, seemingly gathering his thoughts. “Truthfully, I was really worried, because I wasn’t able to observe Ramadan this year. Every other year, I’ve managed to make it work, but… I just didn’t think Eid was going to feel the same.”

He turned to Yuri and smiled softly. “But you made it special, in its own way. So I wanted to thank you for coming, because it really meant a lot to me.”

Yuri didn’t really know what to say to that, so he took a note from Aisha’s book and pulled Otabek in for a tight hug. Yuri could feel Otabek’s soft exhales on his neck, and it made his whole body feel warm.

Otabek kissed his forehead gently as they pulled apart. “So,” he said as he started to walk again. “You were pretty great today. Do you wanna convert to Islam?”

Yuri scoffed. “That sounds like a proposal.”

Otabek paused to look at him for a moment, his expression unfamiliar yet intense, and Yuri felt the warmth in his stomach turn to butterflies. 

Instead of reading into _that_ too much, Yuri took it as an opportunity to kick him lightly in the back of the legs and add, “Besides, you know how I feel about organized religion.”

Otabek just laughed, the sound filling up the city street. 

“Well, at the very least, I hope we get to celebrate Eid together again,” he said.

Yuri tilted his head towards Otabek and smiled. “I’d like that.”

* * *

_New Year’s Eve, St. Petersburg, 2019_

In the first year of Otabek living in Russia with Yuri and Lilya, Yuri insisted that Otabek take part in St. Petersburg’s annual New Year’s Eve celebration. Yuri said it rivaled the famous one in Moscow, and since he’d never been able to go before, he pleaded with Lilya, arguing that it was a “special occasion,” and that they would “most definitely wake up for practice the next morning.” After lots of conversations with both his coaches, and (though it pains Yuri to admit) one well-rehearsed powerpoint presentation, the two were granted permission to take the night off and celebrate the New Year in Dvortsovaya Square. 

When the night came, they both bundled up tightly in layers of scarves and mittens and parkas with fur-lined hoods and took the metro downtown. There were plenty of activities sponsored by the city, but most of them were geared towards small children or adults who wanted to drink the night away, neither of which defined Otabek and Yuri. Instead, they spent most of their time walking up and down the streets of the city, admiring the brightly-lit shops, until Yuri suggested that they have a competition to see who could find the tackiest New Year's Eve party favor, and they spent the next hour running in and out of bars to see what terrible 2018 sunglasses and headbands they could snatch.

They spotted some kids having a dance party in the middle of the square, and Otabek had to physically hold Yuri back from challenging them to a dance battle. Yuri found his way into the circle anyways, and Otabek watched proudly (and with a bit of secondhand embarrassment) as Yuri “totally annihilated those little punks with his sick moves.”

Yuri ended his routine with an arm extended out to Otabek a la Yuuri Katsuki, which made Otabek blush, especially since all of the parents were staring at him. Yuri wasn’t phased, and he skipped over to where Otabek was standing and threaded his arm through his elbow, leading them away from the crowd and talking animatedly about fireworks.

Since the fireworks were scheduled to start at nine, Otabek and Yuri found a seat in a crowded cafe so they could watch them through the window (Otabek wasn’t quite yet used to the St. Petersburg winter). 

Otabek ordered two hot chocolates and brought them back to the table, where Yuri was looking out the window.

“This was my first time celebrating New Year’s Eve,” Yuri said. “Like, actually celebrating. Most of the time I just sit in my room and play video games or something.”

The fireworks reflected in Yuri’s eyes and made them shine as he spoke. “I’ve never done cool New Year’s things before.”

He subconsciously tucked a piece of hair behind his ear, and looked up to see that Otabek was watching him carefully.

“Yeah, I don’t really celebrate New Year’s Eve either. It’s never been a huge deal in my family, because the Islamic New Year is always the bigger celebration,” Otabek said. He took a sip from his mug and Yuri did the same.

“Hmph. Then why’d you come with me?” Yuri teased. Otabek looked up from his drink and Yuri noticed that he had a dollop of whipped cream on his nose. With the swipe of his finger, Yuri laughed and wiped it off, licking it off playfully. This caused Otabek’s face to flush pink and he looked down into his hot chocolate.

“Well, I wanted to experience it, cause I’ve never done any of this either,” he said, gesturing out the window where Yuri watched the crowds of people milling around in the streets. 

“And, well…” Otabek blushed again. “I’ve never… you know, kissed anyone on New Year’s Eve either.”

Yuri’s eyes widened when he realized what Otabek was insinuating. He put on his best shit-eating grin, raised one eyebrow, and asked, “Do you want to kiss me at midnight?” 

“No! I mean, _yes,_ wait— I mean, if you want to, that is—”

Yuri cut off his rambling. “That is _so_ embarrassing, Beka.”

Otabek huffed loudly and took an indignant sip of his drink. “Yura, we’ve been dating for a year,” he said. Yuri just laughed harder. 

When he finally caught his breath, he wiped a tear from his eye and said, “I’ll consider it.”

Otabek rolled his eyes. “We literally _live together_.”

— 

True to his word, Yuri did kiss Otabek at midnight. And before. And after. 

Yuri and Otabek had waited outside of Dvortsovaya Square as the clock counted down, and when the second hand hit zero people cheered, but Yuri and Otabek were already kissing because Yuri had always been impatient. Yuri entered the new year the best way he knew how: with Otabek’s arm around his waist, their lips pressed together, and a wide smile on his face.

* * *

_Valentine’s Day, St. Petersburg, 2021_

They moved into the apartment on Valentine’s Day, because that’s how things worked out. 

Neither Yuri nor Otabek were big on the holiday, and it happened to fall at a perfect time in the season where they could both miss a weekend without falling behind. They had movers help, because they were still, after all, professional athletes whose bodies were their careers, but they still did their fair share of heavy lifting. 

The apartment was a two-story walk-up in St. Petersburg, just a 10 minute ride into downtown and 20 minutes to the rink. Otabek had been living with Yuri and Lilya for a few years at that point, but the two decided to strike out on their own once Lilya had retired. They hadn’t been too picky— Yuri needed a pet-friendly apartment and Otabek wanted windows— so they ended up here, in a cozy apartment with hardwood floors and an indoor fireplace that definitely didn’t work.

The minute they finished bringing in the last boxes, Otabek and Yuri collapsed on the floor. There was furniture spread haphazardly throughout the room, interspersed with piles of boxes and cat toys (Potya was moving in tomorrow), but the two decided that their new, hardwood floor was the place to go. They lay on their backs, relishing in the cool feeling of the wood beneath them, taking a moment to look around their new apartment.

Yuri stared at the ceiling with a dreamy sort of smile on his face. He turned so that he was lying on his side, facing Otabek, the man he loved, his new roommate. Happiness warmed his cheeks as he watched his boyfriend, eyes closed and breathing softly.

Taking his time, Yuri traced some of the patterns of the wood grain until he found Otabek’s hand and gave it a squeeze.

Otabek opened his eyes and gave Yuri a small smile. “We did it.”

Yuri nodded in response. He watched Otabek look around the room and Yuri had the sudden urge to kiss his hand, so he brought Otabek’s fingers to his mouth and pressed his lips against them.

Otabek smiled again, but then bit his lip, looking at Yuri with a wordless intensity that sent heat into Yuri’s stomach. In an instant, Otabek grabbed Yuri’s face and leaned in, kissing him fiercely. Yuri moaned softly in return and opened his mouth, letting Otabek’s tongue dance around his. He gripped the back of Otabek’s neck, lacing his fingers into the soft hair of his undercut and pulling him tighter, closer. 

Still on the floor, Yuri wiggled so that Otabek could lie on top of him, pushing his hips smoothly into Yuri’s. It had been a tiring day, full of frustration and heavy lifting, but Yuri felt his stress evaporate from his skin, lost in the taste of Otabek’s mouth and the way he was kissing Yuri like he couldn’t get enough. Yuri felt the same way, and he kissed Otabek like he meant it.

Otabek tugged Yuri’s sweatpants and underwear down, letting his half-hard cock spring free. Yuri sucked in a breath as he felt the cold air on his skin, but Otabek had his hands on him in an instant, stroking him softly and slowly. 

“Beka...”

“Yura, god you’re beautiful,” Otabek whispered, his breath warming the curve of Yuri’s ear. Yuri canted his hips in time with Otabek’s movements, unable to keep still. 

“Shut up. I’m all sweaty.”

Even still, Yuri’s voice caught on the last word as he tried to bite back out a whimper. He wasn’t sure how long he could last, the urgency of Otabek’s spit-slicked hand sliding up and down, gripping and twisting so _fucking_ well. 

As much as it drove him crazy, that was the one thing that Yuri also loved about their relationship: Otabek always knew exactly what he needed and precisely how to take him apart.

“Fuck, baby… I want you right now. I don’t care that we’re on the floor,” Yuri groaned.

To his annoyance, Otabek’s hand stopped and he lifted himself up to look at Yuri. “What.”

“The perfect way to christen our new apartment— oh! _Our new apartment_ ,” Otabek said, a smile playing on his lips as if he were tasting the words on his tongue. “I like the sound of that.”

Yuri rolled his eyes and pulled him down for a kiss, knocking their teeth together until they were both panting for breath. 

“Beka, I swear to god if you don’t shut up and _fuck_ me.”

It took a little while to find the lube, but luckily Yuri had stuffed a travel bottle in his suitcase before they had packed up their room. Otabek lifted one of Yuri’s legs as he pushed inside, kissing Yuri’s thigh and leaving a trail of bruises and bite marks on the inside of Yuri’s thigh. 

From Otabek’s position, Yuri looked absolutely radiant, his long hair spread around him in a like some sort of sweaty, golden halo. Some of it stuck to his lips which were parted into an “oh,” because Yuri was in his new apartment and he was going to be as loud as he goddamn pleased. He braced one hand on the hardwood floor behind him as Otabek fucked into him relentlessly. 

Otabek bit back groans while Yuri all but screamed Otabek’s name, until Yuri finally got a hand on himself and stroked himself to the time of Otabek’s thrusts. He felt Otabek’s hips stutter and it sent shockwaves through him, so he jerked himself off until he was spilling into his hand and over his stomach. Otabek leaned down to kiss him right as he came inside Yuri. 

They laid there for a moment, panting as sweat dripped from Otabek’s forehead onto their new hardwood floors and suddenly Yuri began to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. Otabek quickly joined in with his own deep chuckles that vibrated in Yuri’s bones when he tried to hide his face in Yuri’s shoulder. Yuri was still giggling when Otabek pulled out, but his laughs turned to whimpers as Otabek grabbed his hips and tipped Yuri’s ass up to meet his lips, licking away some of the cum that had already leaked out. 

Yuri blushed as Otabek looked him dead in the eye with a mischievous smile.

“Can’t go ruining the floors on our first day,” he said, and then got to work. 

They spent the rest of the evening like that, cuddling on the floor, and then moving to the couch when the floor got uncomfortable. They ordered Chinese for dinner and watched a movie as they ate, because the TV was one of the few things actually set up in their place. 

After they were done eating, Yuri knelt in front of the couch and wordlessly stroked at the outline of Otabek’s cock through his jeans until Otabek helped Yuri pull his pants down. Yuri sucked him, lazy and slow, while Otabek scrolled his phone and absentmindedly watched the movie. He kept his fingers in Yuri’s hair, but it was mostly to keep it from falling into his eyes. 

Yuri took his time worshipping Otabek’s cock, licking long stripes down his length, flicking his tongue across Otabek’s slit, sucking his balls, and massaging his length gently whenever his tongue wasn’t there. When Otabek felt like he was close, he would pull Yuri off and shove his fingers in Yuri’s mouth just to give him something else to suck on. 

It was about halfway through the movie when Otabek came, spilling onto Yuri’s tongue with Yuri’s eyes burned into his mind. Yuri licked Otabek’s cum off of his lips with a swipe of his tongue, and then kissed Otabek on the mouth to show him how good he tasted. 

For the second half of the movie, Otabek returned the favor, and Yuri was more than happy to put his feet up and be pampered. 

They went to bed early that night, falling onto a bed without sheets, because neither of them could be bothered to find where they’d packed them. Yuri held Otabek close to his chest as they cuddled in the afterglow of their evening.

“You know, I think Valentine’s Day is kind of stupid,” Yuri mumbled. Otabek laughed, and it rumbled through his body.

“Good to know, Yura.”

“But like… you make it less awful.”

Otabek pulled out of his arms and looked up at Yuri, a stupid grin spread across his face. “That might have been the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Shut up. You can go ahead and move out,” Yuri said. He stuck out his tongue and flipped away from Otabek, rolling to the other side of the bed. A second later, he heard Otabek clamber across the mattress and wrap his arms around Yuri’s torso. 

“After carrying those boxes all the way up here?” Otabek said, laying kisses on Yuri’s cheek between words. “Nah, I think you’re stuck with me.”

Yuri turned around and planted a small kiss on Otabek’s nose. He touched their foreheads together and smiled. 

“Good. Wouldn’t want it any other way.” 

* * *

_Christmas, St. Petersburg, 2023_

Yuri couldn’t _not_ look at the tree. Especially with Otabek’s present just _sitting there,_ taunting him in its bright red and silver wrapping paper. For the millionth time that night, he second-guessed his wrapping; he’d tried not to make it obvious, but there was only so much you could do with a jewelry box to disguise it. 

With all of his strength, Yuri pried his eyes away from the gift and took a deep breath. He hadn’t been this nervous since the 2016 Grand Prix Finals, when Yuri had just entered the Seniors division and he had something to prove. His palms, notoriously dry during competitions, were clammy, leaving damp marks on whatever surface he touched. He even considered putting on a pair of latex gloves for a few minutes before deciding that that was probably a dead giveaway. He turned back to his stew and stirred it anxiously. 

Otabek was in the bathroom, showering after practice. Yuri had insisted on making dinner that night to celebrate, since both of them were so busy with their seasons that they could only spend a few hours celebrating the holiday. Yuri figured that he’d go all out, since he had a plan for that Christmas. Sure, it was a little cheesy, but he and Otabek were rapidly approaching the end of their careers _and_ they had been talking about marriage for years, so Christmas felt like the perfect time to propose.

While Yuri needed everything to be _perfect_ for his proposal, that also meant that he was a nervous wreck on the one night that he and Otabek actually had some alone time. Yuri tried to calm down by reminding himself that it would soon the nerves would be over, and (hopefully) Otabek would be his forever.

Otabek came out of the bathroom, shirtless and wiping his hair with a towel around his neck. He tilted his head quizzically at Yuri.

“You’re wearing an apron,” he said, amusement coloring his voice. Yuri instantly fumed.  
“I— I wanted to do something nice!” he sputtered, his face turning red. “But if you’re going to make fun of me for it—”

Otabek cut him off with a laugh and headed into their bedroom. “I’m gonna finish wrapping your gift. I’ll be out in a second.”

Yuri crossed his arms and pouted. After a few minutes, however, Otabek came back out and wrapped his arms around Yuri from behind, leaning his head on Yuri’s shoulder.

“Smells good,” Otabek said. He kissed on Yuri’s cheek, which was still warm, and buried his nose into Yuri’s hair. Yuri let himself relax into Otabek’s body and he sighed.

Yuri tried to finish cooking with Otabek clinging onto him and kissing his neck and shoulders, but eventually, Yuri had to shoo him away so he could actually finish the meal. Twenty minutes later, Yuri flung off his apron and brought two steaming bowls of curry to their dining room table, where Otabek was waiting patiently. Their poor excuse for a tree sat on the other end, barely half a meter tall and sparsely decorated with the Christmas ornaments that Victor and Yuuri got them whenever they traveled. Underneath the tree sat Otabek and Yuri’s gifts for each other, wrapped with the same paper because they only owned one roll.

Otabek smiled as Yuri sat down. He reached over and squeezed Yuri’s hand on the table.

“I was thinking,” Otabek started casually. “Maybe we could do gifts before dinner?” 

Yuri froze, because that was not part of his detailed, methodical, 15-step plan for the night. It was supposed to be dinner first and _then_ presents, so the food wouldn’t get cold while he was proposing (because Yuri had also prepared a speech). 

But not wanting to ruin the surprise, he just forced a smile and said, “Sure!” as cheerily as he could between gritted teeth. Otabek didn’t seem to notice.

Otabek reached over the table and handed his gift to Yuri. 

“You first,” he said, nodding at the present. This was _also_ not part of the plan; Yuri wanted Otabek to open the ring first, because Yuri was too nervous to give Otabek the proper reaction to whatever perfect, thoughtful gift that he’d probably spent hours picking out.

Yuri just dug his nails into his palm beneath the table and nodded, a smile still plastered painfully on his face. 

Since his hands were shaking, Yuri had to unwrap the present slowly. Inside sat another small shipping box, so Yuri peeled off the tape and opened that one as well. Inside _that_ was a tiny black box, small enough to fit in the palm of his hand, and— _oh my god._

Yuri cracked open the soft velvet and looked at the ring inside, his vision blurring with tears.

“Yura.”

Yuri looked up to see that Otabek had walked around the table and had knelt down on one knee in front of his chair, his eyes shining.

“Will you marry me?” he asked. The words rang in Yuri’s ears. They sounded exactly like he’d imagined. 

He opened his mouth to respond, but then he remembered _his_ plan, _his_ present for Otabek, still glittering under the Christmas tree on their table. 

Yuri took a deep breath. He had to choose his next words carefully.

“...Open your gift,” he said. 

Otabek looked confused. “Yuri, can’t the gift wait—“

“Beka, just… trust me,” Yuri said, placing his hand on Otabek’s leg as he knelt down in front of him. 

Yuri couldn’t help but smile as realization dawned on Otabek’s face and he scrambled to grab Yuri’s neatly wrapped gift from the table. More tears began to gather in the corner of Yuri’s eyes, but he tried to wipe them away with the back of his hand. He didn’t want to miss Otabek’s reaction. 

Otabek tore off the paper, opened the box, and sucked in a sharp breath. He stared at the ring for a moment before looking up at Yuri’s with wet eyes. 

“It’s beautiful.”

The ring Yuri had chosen was the one that Otabek had found one night, catalogs spread across their living room while they were drinking cheap wine and pretending to plan their dream wedding. Otabek had found the ring in a jewelry ad, and he broke down crying over how beautiful it was. That was the third time Yuri had ever seen him cry. 

Yuri placed both of his hands on Otabek’s knee. “Happy fucking Christmas, Beka. Will you marry me?”

Otabek was quiet for a moment and then he said, “It’s ‘merry.’”

Yuri narrowed his eyes. “That’s what I said. ‘Will you _marry_ me, Otabek Altin?”

“No, I meant ‘merry’ like ‘merry’ Christmas— you know what, it doesn’t matter. Nothing else matters right now except for this,“ Otabek said as he smiled. He took Yuri’s hand. “Will you marry _me_ , Yuri Plisetsky?”

“But I asked first.”

“Well, I proposed first,” Otabek pointed out. Yuri wanted to protest, but he decided to take Otabek’s advice.

“Okay, Beka. Yes, of course, of _course_ I will marry you,” Yuri said, laughing. “Now you say it.”

Otabek nodded and scooted closer to Yuri, still on his knees. He took both of Yuri’s hands in his and laid a kiss on their interlocked fingers. 

“Yura, I want nothing more than to call you mine for the rest of my life,” Otabek said, and then leaned forward to press their lips together gently. 

Yuri broke the kiss, touching their foreheads together. “No fair,” he whispered. “You got the better proposal and the better answer.” 

“Well, Yura, you have a lifetime to make it up to me.”

“I’ll take that challenge,” Yuri said. 

He felt giddy, like he weighed nothing, like he could fly away if Otabek weren’t holding him steady. A million thoughts swirled in his head as he tried to figure out what to do next; he wanted to kiss Otabek, he wanted to take pictures, he wanted to tell his grandfather, he wanted to kiss Otabek again… but one thing stood apart from the rest.

“Come on,” Yuri said, lifting Otabek to his feet. “Food’s getting cold. Let’s eat.”

**Author's Note:**

> The biggest of thanks to Pep ([twitter](https://twitter.com/peppiestbismilk) and [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeppyBismilk/)) for editing this for me!  
> Happy holidays everyone!


End file.
